52. Dusty

I’m standing on the barn’s roof when Marnie’s car pulls into the gravel yard. I crouch, picking up my tools, watching with amusement as her gaze first lands on the ladder, then her head tips back.

And back some more.

I’m up high. Nearly three stories, if I had to guess.

I don’t like it either, but somebody needed to put a temporary patch over this hail damage, otherwise we’d have a sunroof in a place where we didn’t want one. Between the wind and the hail, the roof is toast. Gus’s house was sheltered by the stand of silver maples, but the barn took a beating. I check that the tarp isn’t going to blow away with the next strong wind, and carefully pick my way down the roof. It’s steep, and knowing Marnie’s down there staring at me isn’t helping.

I breathe a sigh of relief once my boots hit the top rung of the ladder. Swiftly climbing down, I step off the ladder and look her over. “’Sup?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t ‘sup me. What in the hell were you doing up there?”

The concern on her face is pretty cute.

I do my best to look serious. “Fixing the hole.”

“There’s a hole?”

I scan her from head to toe. She’s got her hair slicked back in a high, tight ponytail. Between her dark slacks and tank top, she looks like a killer boss babe. “Where’d you run off to?”

“Went into town.”

She says, evading the question. “There’s a hole in the roof?”

“From the windstorm.”

I glance up at the barn. “Damn insurance sent an adjuster out before I could even call, but the roofers won’t be able to get to it for at least a month.”

“Show me.”

I grin at her. “You want to climb up the ladder?”

“From the inside. Me and heights don’t go together.”

She follows me into the barn, gesturing for me to lead the way.

I glance over my shoulder as I climb the steps. “The barn doesn’t look great, but in other news, the fields came out looking pretty good. The storm mostly missed.”

“That’s awesome.”

More than she knows.

I take her into Sienna's room, tilting my head to examine the tarp I put in place. Sunlight filters through it, making it look Caribbean blue.

Marnie’s not looking at the hole in the ceiling, she’s looking around Sienna’s room. “Why is it so sparse?”

I follow her gaze. Both of our rooms are undecorated. I never settled in because some small part of me understood that this wasn’t my house. But looking at Sienna’s room, I start to worry that I sent her a message with that choice. “She’s not much into decorating, I guess.”

Marnie’s amber-colored eyes lock onto mine. “Her room in the house is decorated.”

She tilts her head back, studying the gouge in the ceiling.

I stare at it, too. “The wind took the shingles and panel beneath. The rain did the ceiling in. We’ll need to call a dry waller to fix it.”

I step out of Sienna’s room, showing Marnie a similar gap in my ceiling.

“So, what now? You can’t keep sleeping in here, exposed to the elements like this.”

I shrug. “It’ll be like camping.”

She frowns. “Dusty.”

It’s too tempting. I step closer, one hand wrapping around her waist, the other reaching up to smooth the lines between her expressive brows. “We’ll sleep downstairs.”

“On the couch. The both of you?”

“I can sleep on the floor. It’s fine. We’ll figure it out.”

She weaves her arms under mine, flattening her hands over my lower back. “Why don’t you two just move into the house?”

I tense. I’m not sure why, but that idea makes me uncomfortable. Like I’m taking advantage of her somehow. “And invade your space? No.”

“Why not? You can take your old rooms. I’ve been sleeping in Uncle Gus’s room, disturbing as that’s been. There’s plenty of room for all of us.”

“Or we can just bunk on the floor in the barn.”

Her lip comes out in a cute little pout. “You don’t want to stay with me?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest.”

“Then it’s simple. Just say yes.”

I hesitate, looking up when the wind rustles my tarp. It’s going to hold, I’m fairly certain, but it isn’t going to be pretty.

Her fingers find my belt loops and hook around them. “Please? Do I need to beg?”

“I do like it when you say please.”

She grins. “I know you do. And I kind of like begging.”

“I know you do.”

My blood heats up and I tug her roughly against my hips. “Is this some sort of complicated scheme to get me in your bed?”

“Uncle Gus’s bed. And yes. You caught me. I ordered that hail and told them to make it extra smashy.”

She leans in, nipping at my jaw. “Is that a yes?”

“To your slumber party idea?”

Her lips move down to my neck. “You want to?”

Once I get past my damaged ego, the suggestion is more than appealing. “It’s the best damn idea I’ve heard all day.”